unexpected love (Leah Williamson)

New Beginnings

Leah's POV:

The morning light was gentle, slipping through the curtains as I woke up to find Ella still asleep beside me. Her face was soft and relaxed, finally at peace after last night's ordeal. I watched her for a moment, my heart feeling impossibly full. It felt like we'd settled into something real, something stable. Our getaway, the quiet nights, and our early mornings together—it was a life I wanted every day.

As if sensing me watching, Ella stirred, her eyes fluttering open. She smiled, her voice still drowsy. "Morning."

"Good morning, doctor," I teased, leaning in to kiss her forehead. She chuckled softly, closing her eyes for a moment before looking back at me, her gaze suddenly thoughtful.

We lay there for a moment, and I could feel there was something on her mind.

"Leah..." she began, her voice almost hesitant. "I've been thinking. After everything we've been through, and how... well, right it feels with you here, maybe... maybe you could just stay."

I blinked, momentarily surprised. "Stay... like, you mean stay over more often?"

She laughed nervously, biting her lip. "No, I mean... move in with me." Her voice softened, her eyes full of hope. "If you want to, of course. I know it's a big step, but it feels right, doesn't it?"

I looked at her, my heart skipping a beat as her words sank in. We'd both been on edge for so long, working to build trust, taking things slow. But now, hearing her ask, I realized that living with Ella felt like the most natural thing in the world.

"It does feel right," I said, grinning as I pulled her into a hug. "I'd love to move in, Ella. I think I've practically been here half the time anyway."

She laughed, a soft, happy sound that filled the room. "Then it's settled," she said, squeezing me tight. "I'll clear out some closet space for you, and you can start bringing your things over."

For the rest of the morning, we talked about what moving in together would look like. Ella, with her tendency for organization, had already mentally planned where I could store my things. We made lists of what we might need—a couple of new shelves, maybe a cozy chair for the living room corner—and each idea only made me more excited to start building this new life together.

A week later, I'd finally started moving my things into Ella's apartment. Boxes lined the walls, and half-unpacked bags covered every available surface. Ella was in the living room sorting through some of my stuff, and I wandered into the spare room, which she used as her art studio. I'd never seen her actually working in here—she'd always kept her art to herself. But now that we were sharing a space, I was curious about this side of her that she didn't usually show.

The room was bright and airy, canvases lined against the walls, some finished and others half-covered in color. In the center was an easel, with a canvas in progress, rich with dark blues and warm yellows. The brushstrokes were wild but controlled, like emotions poured directly onto the canvas.

I was so mesmerized by it that I didn't hear her come up behind me until she spoke.

"That one's... still in progress," she said softly, almost shyly. "It's harder to finish, for some reason."

I turned to her, surprised at how vulnerable she looked. "It's beautiful, Ella. Your work is... it's incredible." I reached out, brushing her arm. "I had no idea how talented you were."

She blushed, looking away. "It's just... a hobby, really. Something I use to clear my mind. It's kind of a personal thing for me."

"Well, I think it's amazing," I said, looking around the room in awe. There were pieces in every style and size—some with vivid colors and soft shapes, others darker, with rough, raw edges. "Do any of these mean something specific?"

She nodded, taking a deep breath. "Some do. Art's always been a way for me to process things, emotions I can't really put into words. Each painting... kind of holds a piece of me."

She reached for one canvas, a small piece filled with soft hues of green and lavender, which made me feel calm just looking at it. "This one's about finding balance," she said quietly. "I painted it after my first year at the hospital. The stress, the responsibility—it felt overwhelming at times. Art helped me find my way back."

I took in her words, a new respect blooming for this side of her that she'd kept hidden. "Ella, thank you for sharing this with me," I said, my voice barely a whisper. "It's beautiful seeing you like this. I feel... honored, really."

She smiled, stepping closer and taking my hand. "I want you to be part of all of this, Leah. My art, my life—everything. Moving in isn't just about sharing a place. It's about sharing who we are."

I felt a surge of emotion, the weight of her words sinking in. "And I want the same," I said, squeezing her hand. "All of it, Ella. The highs, the lows, your late-night call-ins, your messy art supplies—I want it all."

Over the next few weeks, life felt like a beautiful, chaotic blend of our worlds. We created new routines, shared meals, laughed over who left more dishes in the sink, and spent countless nights talking until we drifted off together. There were days when we'd sit in her studio, and I'd watch her paint, fascinated by her skill and the way she could lose herself so completely in her art.

Living with Ella taught me so much about her—the little things she loved, her quirks, her passions. And I was learning so much about myself, too. Our connection grew stronger with each day, with each canvas she shared, and each word we exchanged late at night.

One evening, as we lay on the couch together, she held my hand, tracing patterns with her fingers. "Leah, I know it's taken a lot for us to get here, but I want you to know... you're the best thing that's ever happened to me."

I looked into her eyes, my heart swelling. "Ella, I feel exactly the same. You make me better, more grounded, more... whole." I kissed her, feeling the depth of everything we'd built between us, knowing that this was just the beginning.

In that moment, with her hand in mine, surrounded by her art, our lives intertwined in ways I'd never dreamed possible, I felt a sense of peace I hadn't felt in a long time. Moving in had been the first step, but with Ella, every day felt like a new beginning, a chance to love her more and show her just how much she meant to me. And I knew that wherever life took us, I'd be right by her side, for all the days to come.